The Second Prerequisite to the Geulah*

A thought on Parashas Vaeira. Feel free to print and read over Shabbos.

Jan 24, 2025

*The first prerequisite was explained in my previous post: An Unlikely Tale of Two Brothers.

Parshas Vaeira is a completely different type of parashah (one that even transcends the need for an accompanying picture :) ). Throughout Sefer Bereishis and even Parashas Shemos, we’ve mostly seen the world running within the laws of nature, with some miraculous exceptions. Now, we are introduced to a new way the world can work. (This continues through the rest of Shemos—from the splitting of the Yam Suf to the manna, to the Mishkan, and beyond.) Things seem almost magical. It’s like the world had been running on a secondary-level circuit board until now, and suddenly it’s been switched to the main circuit, with so many more capabilities. Of course, that’s not really how it works. The Torah tells us exactly how it works—through the names of Hashem.

In this week’s parashah, we are introduced to a new name of Hashem. While in the past, Hashem appeared to our forefathers with the name Sha-dai, now He reveals Himself to Moshe with the name HaVaYaH. All the commentators ask: Why the sudden change? What is the significance of using this name now?

The Izhbitzer1 explains, based on the Zohar, that the name Sha-dai does not represent the full expression of shefa—the abundance of good that sustains the world. Instead, it compacts and minimizes it, allowing the recipient to receive without being overwhelmed. This is similar to a nursing mother giving milk to her newborn. The root of the word Sha-dai, “shed,” also means “breast” in Hebrew, reflecting this purpose of nurturing in a controlled and measured way.

To experience shefa, there must first be tzimtzum—a contraction or limitation. Without it, the overwhelming light of Hashem’s abundance would blind us, much like being dazzled by bright light after emerging from darkness. The Mekubalim use the concept of tzimtzum to explain how an infinite Hashem creates a finite world. Hashem, so to speak, withdraws to create space for something else to exist, giving us the perception of independent existence.

The name Ehyeh or HaVaYaH represents the source of all shefa. Here, the light exists in its full, pinnacle glory and manifestation—far beyond human comprehension. It is impossible for a person to fully grasp such light. (We must ensure that we can access this shefa incrementally, growing step by step. Too often, though, we block it ourselves.)

The Izhbitzer elaborates that if a person finds something good taken away, it reveals that they never truly possessed it in the depths of their heart. We often have good intentions but forget about them; they don’t become part of us. We may talk the talk, but until it’s in our heart, until it shapes our actions, it’s not truly ours.

The name Sha-dai, derived from “dai” (enough), reflects this idea of constriction. Even when we pray for shefa, we must ask: Are we truly ready for it? Are we merely saying the words, or do we genuinely desire it and work to receive it? Only when we wholeheartedly want it, and act accordingly, can we access the full shefa.

The Beis Yaakov explains further, based on the Arizal, that the beginning of life has three stages: Ibur, Yenika, and Mochin. Ibur refers to the time from conception until the fetus becomes an independent creation, though still enclosed within its mother’s womb and incapable of functioning on its own. Once the baby is born, it enters the stage of Yenika, where it is separated from its mother yet entirely dependent on her for sustenance. Finally, the baby progresses to Mochin, after being weaned from nursing. During this stage, the child begins to learn how to eat and live independently. (The Arizal refers to this as Ibur Sheini—a second stage of development.)

Rav Moshe Dovid Vali explains that the Shem HaVaYaH reflects yediya (knowledge) and dveikus (connection) to Hashem.2 Just as the fetus, though unaware of its mother, is intimately connected to and sustained by her, we are constantly connected to and reliant upon Hashem, constantly cared for and sustained by Him. Our existence is entirely within Him, and our ability to experience dveikus comes from recognizing and deepening our awareness of this truth.

At the same time, we have no true concept of who Hashem is—just as a fetus has no awareness of its mother. We exist within Hashem, experiencing an intimate and protective relationship with our Creator and Sustainer.

Moreover, Hashem is not confined by time and space, nor is He limited by any of the constructs we experience. Hashem created everything, continues to sustain it, and exists beyond these dimensions. In Hashem’s reality, everything holds infinite potential and value. In contrast, we are bound by the dimensions of time and space, which limit our understanding and perspective. Because of this, ultimate justice and complete clarity are impossible to achieve in this world. For us, time is experienced as a continuum—with a past, present, and future.

On the level of HaVaYaH, however, there is infinite potential.

Moshe was on a higher level than the Avos. He understood Hashem from the level of Atzilus, whereas the Avos only reached the level of Beriyah.3

It seems that the Avos had a more limited understanding of Hashem—though still far beyond anything we can begin to imagine. Their understanding was defined; they related to Hashem through words such as Gadol, Gibbor, and Nora. There was some form or structure to their perception, something that could be contained. This also reflects how their tefillah worked—they could only describe what was within their grasp.

In contrast, the Shem HaVaYaH is limitless. Even the Avos were not able to fully grasp it. (Perhaps the Jewish people did, briefly, as we will explain in a moment. But that required tapping into something very deep.)

The Avos’ understanding of Hashem reflected their spiritual era, while the collective tefillah of Bnei Yisrael during their suffering in Egypt marked a profound spiritual turning point.

Rav Chaim Cohen, known as the Chalban, in his sefer Ana B’Koach, explains that the first tefillah of the Bnei Yisrael was born out of the immense suffering they endured at the hands of the Egyptians. This tefillah is referenced as shavasam—a primal cry, emerging from the deepest recesses of their collective heart. It was not a conscious or structured prayer but an unspoken yearning for freedom, so profound that they themselves may not have fully realized they were praying. Deep within, they knew that their current reality—the oppression, degradation, and pain—was not the way life was meant to be. This raw and unfiltered tefillah was so powerful that it shook the entire universe and fundamentally changed the way Hashem related to them.

This was no ordinary tefillah. It was not the tefillah of individuals, each asking for their own needs. Instead, it was the tefillah of an entire nation—an am united in suffering and longing, crying out from the deepest depths of their collective soul. It was a cry for existence, a yearning to return to their true place as Hashem’s chosen people, and an instinctual pull toward the infinite light of Creation.

The essence of this tefillah was a desperate reaching for something far beyond the constraints of their current reality. It was a yearning for the place beyond rules and limitations, beyond the tzimtzum of Creation—a realm of pure, infinite light. This cry was so all-encompassing that it transcended their own understanding, yet it reached the highest levels of Heaven. It was in response to this deep cry that Hashem appeared to Moshe at the burning bush, revealing the name HaVaYaH—a name that embodies boundless potential and a connection beyond comprehension.4

This is similar to the idea of Rav Kook’s “third shofar,” an ultimate cry for redemption that arises from the deepest recesses of the Jewish soul.5

This idea even finds echoes in unexpected places, like Jimmy Cliff’s song: “You can get it if you really want… but you must try and try, and you’ll succeed at last.” The song captures a truth that is both universal and deeply personal: success, redemption, and connection to something greater all require the persistence of yearning and the refusal to give up—even when the path seems impossible. Or, as President Trump remarked during his inauguration, “In America, the impossible is what we do best.” These modern sentiments highlight the timeless message of striving for the infinite despite the challenges.

The Chalban, in Talelei Chaim on the parashah, explains based on the mekubalim6, that in order to effect change in the world, it must first begin within. For the geulah to occur in our world, a transformation had to take place in the heavenly programming, which required a shift to a different name of Hashem. The names of Hashem are the roots of divine energy, each serving a unique function.

The Chalban is very clear: Sha-dai is associated with individuals, while HaVaYaH is connected to the Am—the nation. The geula required the creation of an Am, a collective identity. As individuals, we are finite. But when we unite as an Am, we transcend our limitations and become infinite.

The Avos understood the world through the framework of its rules, limits, and confines. They recognized that a greater force—Hashem—created and governs it all. Yet sometimes, we must reach beyond these rules and draw in unconstrained shefa. This requires a yearning that comes from the deepest place in the heart, a cry so profound that we may not even be aware of it. This is called shaava.

Shaava is a yearning so deep that it breaks through the confines of the world as we know it. It opens the channels for shefa to flow from the world of Atzilus into our reality. This unconstricted shefa arises precisely from the place of our greatest constriction—the depths of the heart. It is a place so deeply concealed, so profoundly limited, that it paradoxically connects to the infinite. In its essence, it is indeed unconstricted, beyond the rules and limits of the world as we know it.

I began by comparing this concept to electrical circuits, but perhaps it is better understood through a comparison between classical physics and quantum mechanics.

Admittedly, I am not an expert on these matters at all, so I consulted my trusty AI researcher for some help. (The following explanation is written by ChatGPT—though it’s worth noting that AI/ML itself is a poor mashal, as it is always rule-based, operating on an "if this, then that" model.) Of course, we cannot truly compare the spiritual to the physical; any such comparison is only an example to help us grasp a deeper idea.

Classical physics views the universe as predictable and deterministic, much like the constrained reality associated with Sha-dai. Everything operates according to fixed laws, within defined boundaries. Quantum mechanics, however, reveals a deeper, more complex reality where the usual rules break down. It introduces us to a realm of infinite possibilities—a glimpse into the concept of HaVaYaH.

To give an example: imagine shining a light through two small slits onto a screen. You might expect to see two lines of light, one for each slit. But instead, the light creates a series of bright and dark bands, like ripples overlapping in water. This shows that light behaves like a wave, spreading out and interfering with itself. However, if we look at the light at the smallest level—as individual particles called photons—it behaves as though it is made of tiny, separate pieces. This experiment is known as the double-slit experiment, and it challenges the way we understand reality, showing us that light can behave in ways we wouldn’t expect.

Returning to the earlier analogy of electrical circuits, classical physics represents the simpler, predictable "secondary circuit board" we discussed, while quantum mechanics is like the "main circuit"—revealing capabilities and realities far beyond what we can perceive. In the same way, Sha-dai reflects the structured, rule-bound framework of the universe, while HaVaYaH reveals a boundless, infinite light. Quantum mechanics gives us a glimpse into this deeper reality, much like HaVaYaH allows us to transcend the confines of the natural world and connect to the infinite.

What we see here is that the second prerequisite for Geulah is not just brotherhood7 but nationhood—to become Klal Yisrael, a nation of individuals united as one. We cannot be disconnected individuals. A community forms collective resilience. A community brings Kedusha. A community—a klal—has the power to change the way the world operates.

At its core, the journey from Sha-dai to HaVaYaH—from constriction to infinite light—teaches us that unity, holiness, and collective yearning are the keys to elevating ourselves and the world to its ultimate potential.

Rabbi Sacks eloquently captures this idea:

“Communities build; they do not destroy. They bring out the best in us, not the worst. They speak not to our baser emotions such as fear but to higher aspirations like building a symbolic home for the Divine Presence in their midst.”8

He also differentiates between individuality and individualism, writing:

“There is… all the difference in the world between individuality and individualism. Individuality means that I am a unique and valued member of a team. Individualism means that I am not a team player at all. I am interested in myself alone, not the group… Judaism values individuality, not individualism. As Hillel said, ‘If I am only for myself, what am I?’”9

We must remain part of the community. Extremism, whether toward stringency or laxity, poses significant risks. Such extremism erodes the unity of the community and can ultimately disintegrate it.

The Chalban writes:

כשעם ישראל דרך על במת ההיסטוריה והתחיל להופיע כעם, הוא גרם לזעזוע בכל העולם כולו. דריכת ישראל בהיסטוריה, פירוש הדבר הוא ששם הוי"ה מתחיל לחדוד לכל מקום ומקום במציאות לכל פינה, לכל רובד ולכל גוי וממלכה. זו גאולת עולם, להביא את העולם כולו למדרגת שם הוי"ה.
“When Am Yisrael stepped onto the stage of history and began to appear as a nation, it caused a shockwave across the entire world. The entry of Israel into history signified that the name HaVaYaH began to penetrate every aspect of existence, to reach every corner, every level, every nation, and every kingdom. This is the Geulah of the world—to elevate the entire world to the level of the name HaVaYaH.”

The Chalban elaborates that the beginning of Christianity stemmed from individuals who, with the best of intentions, separated themselves from the community. This detachment ultimately led them to stray from Hashem. Similarly, this was the root cause of the Shabbetai Tzvi movement, and it continues to affect us even today.10

To return to the state of Am Yisrael, we must focus on the Shechina, which rests on Klal Yisrael. This means thinking not only about ourselves but also about others, especially those who are different from us. We cannot truly be an Am if there are those who are distant from the Shechina, as this weakens the collective. At the same time, we must avoid responding to external pressures by becoming more extreme or more assimilated. As Rabbi Anthony Manning puts it, we need to focus on a “passionate, moderate, authentic middle”11. While we can embrace diversity, we must also strive for integration, which leads to true Shalom.

When we act with holiness as individuals, we connect to one another and together form a holy nation. As Rabbi Sacks wrote:

“To be holy means to bear witness to the presence of Hashem in our, and our people’s, lives.”12

May we merit the great day when we will blow the great Shofar of Mashiach, which, as Rav Kook explains, represents the highest and purest determination to fulfill the ratzon Hashem. This shofar reflects the collective tefillah of the neshama, a deeply rooted spiritual aspiration that seeks to manifest the ratzon Hashem from a place of profound holiness.

This shofar will be blown by those who act with deep faith and in ways of kedushah, striving to bring about the geulah through pure devotion to Hashem and His Torah.13

When we once again become a complete Am Kadosh, united as one holy nation, we will merit blowing the great Shofar and welcoming the Geulah.

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